


Silent Knight

by arestorationofbalance



Series: Sweet Jason Todd One Shots and Drabbles [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Protective Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28017861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arestorationofbalance/pseuds/arestorationofbalance
Summary: The holidays aren’t a happy time for everyone, yourself included. A run in with a certain red-themed vigilante makes the holiday season a bit more tolerable though.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Reader, Jason Todd/Reader
Series: Sweet Jason Todd One Shots and Drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045005
Kudos: 54





	Silent Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Special dedication to those who associate the holidays with bad memories or uncomfortable things. My heart goes out to you.

It was another night in Gotham, its transition from daylight to darkness only felt by the biting chill from the lack of sun. There wasn’t much difference between the two anyway. The city’s towering buildings were just as looming. Crime raged on regardless of the hour. There was still an atmosphere of melancholy that lingered regardless of time, emphasized at night only because of the dwindling presence of others and the cold.

You knew it in your heart and with every passing season. The holidays spent in Gotham City were lonely.

It wasn’t always this way or maybe you were so disillusioned that you wanted to believe that it used to feel like something different, that there was a reason for your longing, that maybe there was something you had lost.

The holiday season was supposed to be full of happiness, fun, _joy_. It was a time that should have been spent with family and friends. That’s what Hallmark told you at least.

Gotham City tried its best to be as festive as it could as well during this season. Twinkling lights glimmered across snow-laden eaves and if you peeked into even the most desolate parts of Crime Alley, you could see a glimpse of wrapped packages and hear the faint _kling-klang_ of bells and Mariah Carey.

Even in the Narrows, everything seemed merry and bright for once. The people who lived there didn’t have much but at least they had each other. Sometimes it was more about the little things, those moments of rest where they could gather and eat, enjoying the presence of others. The smell of cinnamon lingered in the air and if you closed your eyes and blocked out the sounds, you could imagine that maybe you weren’t stuck in some shithole, that it didn’t matter where you were or what little you had because you were surrounded by people who loved you.

And if you rounded the corner of Crime Alley, crossed the Sprang Bridge that separated uptown from the rest of Gotham, you’d find the opposite. If you looked at the windows of any shop in the Diamond District, you’d the see the silhouettes of a fat jeweler arguing with his wife who never loved him. The threat of leaving and taking the kids would hang in the air, lingering like the snow that still falling.

The Fashion District wasn’t any better. The sounds of grief and muffled sobbing were lost to the noises of electronic club music. _If only I was skinnier. If only I was prettier. I could have found love. I would have had friends._ Broken sentiments like these were unspoken and carried along with the beat of the music, stomped down to the ground by other clubgoers until that broken-hearted person swallowed their feelings, choosing to get lost in the warmth of another to feel wanted, if only for that night.

Sometimes winter was a season of want and without rather than a time of abundance and companionship.

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about the holidays that bothered you. Or maybe you could. You didn’t have the time nor energy to delve that deep into childhood trauma or the harsh realities of young adulthood. Perhaps you didn’t even need a reason. This time simply wasn’t for you.

Opting for a breath of fresh air -as fresh as it could be with Ace Chemicals having another “incident” where pollutants were expelled in the air, making Gothamites one breath closer to becoming mutants- you took a step outside of your front door and walked down to the last steps of your stoop, covered mug of hot cocoa in hand.

Looking towards the left and another long look towards your right, you confirmed that you were alone. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Was it a sigh of relief or disappointment?

Watching the wisps of heat escape your mouth, you reflected on the holiday season. You didn’t want to be a Grinch. You didn’t want to be a grump. But whatever it was about the holidays, it made you squirm with discomfort every year as the difference between your celebrations and that of others became more and more apparent.

You didn’t necessarily hate all of the holiday music. You understood the importance of having time off to spend with loved ones. And if anything, you were grateful for the deals that went on at all of the stores you shopped at, signs marked brightly in colors of blue and silver or a combination of green, white and red.

 _Red._ There was something vividly red in the peripheral of your view, causing you to jolt as you turned towards it. A man, over six feet for sure, stood leaning against your door, arms crossed casually as he watched you. A helmet covered his face, protecting himself from the cold and obscuring his identity. You didn’t hear him come up behind you.

A list of Gotham’s villains flashed before your eyes, trying to put a name to the man before you. Black Mask was crossed off because of the obvious difference in color. An old news segment about the Red Hood gang surfaced from your memories. No, not him either. That man went by the Joker now and was hopefully still locked up in Arkham Asylum.

Red Robin felt closer but there nothing about his costume that seemed avian. “Red Hood.” He offered, taking a step forward with his hands open and in front of him to prove to you that he was safe and wouldn’t harm you.

Yes, that’s who he was. The Red Hood. The gruff vigilante who was rougher than Batman in his methods of taking care of Gotham’s crime problem. The beloved hero of Uptown Gotham and East End.

One time during an afterwork rush on the subway, you heard him referred to as “the Knight of the Nobodies.” The other person excitedly told their friend that they chose him as their preferred vigilante because they saw the Red Hood as someone they could relate to. It was as if he lived the injustices of having a lower socioeconomic status, as if he was disgruntled with Gotham society because he knew just how fucked up it was on the streets. You agreed with their assessment at the time. The Red Hood was recently praised for his work in taking down a local drug lord who had been tied to recruiting middle schoolers to move his products.

“Don’t wanna jinx myself but silent night, huh? Yeah, I know _. Crazy for Gotham._ Evil has loved ones and partakes in the holiday cheer too, I guess.”

You humored the intruder of your solitude with a two-note laugh.

“Well, it was mostly a silent night aside from that singing.”

“Singing?” You questioned, still on edge. He might be a hero but his presence on your doorstep might attract the unwanted attention of criminals.

“Oh, you don’t have to be shy. You sounded good. I had to stop by and correct you thought because you got the lyrics all _wrong_.”

You hadn’t even realized you were singing out loud -you paid no mind to your volume or the fact that your humming might have been full on belting because you thought you were alone- and you were grateful that you could use the chill as a cover for any embarrassment that might be apparent on your face.

He went on with his robotic voice modulator sounding as chipper as possible. “Jingle bells. Batman smells. Robin laid an egg. The Batmobile lost a wheel. _And the Joker should be dead_ , hey! And so on and so forth.”

Looking at him with skepticism, you knew for certain that those weren’t the lyrics to Gotham’s take on “Jingle Bells.” Shrugging with a bit nonchalance, you told him, “Never heard of it. Must be some neighborhood variant.”

He scoffed. “No, no, _no_. That’s definitely the original. See, it got changed over the years to be more PC. Some shit about villains’ rights. I think Bruce Wayne was the first one to advocate for the change in lyrics. What an out of touch asshole.”

You lost it as you watched the man use air quotes as he mentioned villains’ rights and down right doubled over in laughter as he blamed Bruce fucking Wayne, Gotham’s savior, on the change.

The night was no longer silent. It held on to your laughter and buried it in the snow to cherish it, your one moment of joy during this stressful season to be immortalized until the sun melted away. It’d be something that would last until March at the latest. Hopefully it would be something that would last in your memories as one good memory related to this season.

“Glad you found my little bit of knowledge about the lesser known intricacies of Gotham culture to be so amusing,” he said dryly as your laughter finally died down.

He motioned towards your drink, barely warm and heavy in your hand now. “Got more of that cocoa?”

His question -though innocent sounding enough- reminded you of the reality of the situation. You were sharing company with an armed vigilante. Though it was nice -an adjective that you would apply later on with great deliberation-, it was still dangerous. You answered hesitantly that you did.

“Don’t feel obligated to like, drink it in front of me though. I can make you a to-go cup or something. Got a thermos I don’t care about that you definitely wouldn’t have to return. But I guess if you really are thirsty, I’m good at keeping a secret. Or I can just go into another room so you can-”

The Red Hood graciously cut you off and saved you both from another two minutes of your anxious rambling and weak attempts to get him away from you.

“Oh, I didn’t ask about it so I could drink it. My hands are just fuckin’ cold.” He pointed to the right glove that had a tear down the middle, revealing the palm underneath.

“But,” he trailed and you could hear the smile in his voice. “If you want a lil fireside chat about the long face you’re pullin’ during such a joyous time or to simply learn more about the Gotham folktales about this jolly big man in red,” he pointed towards himself. “Then I guess I have an hour or two to spare if you’re willing.”

You probably wouldn’t say it with words but he could tell by the look in your eyes that you were lonely, a feeling he knew all too well while growing up. It was a feeling that still clung to him with every fight he had with his family and the reluctant offer of peace they presented around this time of the year. “For the sake of family. Of friendship. Of brotherhood.” The holidays had a way of bringing out these shitty feelings that Jason thought would fade with time, feelings of being unwanted, uncared for and being only a reluctant inclusion in the group.

He made the offer as casual as he could, hoping that you could tell by his tone that you were in complete control of letting him into your life or not.

Yeah, Jason was a talker and it was difficult to shut him up once he started going. But he could also be a silent knight, letting himself stand as a monument of strength during such a difficult time of the year when you feel like you might not have anyone. You could cry if you wanted to. You could bitch. You could scream. But if anything, he hoped you would smile and find comfort in his presence.


End file.
